


every color that you see

by larryutopia



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Louis, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Louis Tomlinson is a Little Shit, M/M, Meet-Cute, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Top Harry, Wall Sex, artistic dirty talk, larry stylinson - Freeform, that’s a first, zouis friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 01:19:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15474321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryutopia/pseuds/larryutopia
Summary: It wasn’t often that Louis would sacrifice an afternoon full of relaxing and eating coco pops to look at art from hundreds of years ago. But then again, most days aren’t Zayn Malik’s birthday.Zayn likes art, Louis does not. Harry gives them both a tour of the National Gallery in London. Flirting and artistic dirty talk ensue.





	every color that you see

**Author's Note:**

> hey y’all. 
> 
> I just finished an internship at my local art museum, which inspired this fic. it’s the first fic i’ve ever written! woohoo! please feel free to leave your honest feedback and correct me on any mistakes, no one proofread this lol. title is from the song ‘painting (masterpiece)’ by Lewis Del Mar! 
> 
> I truly hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t often that Louis would sacrifice an afternoon full of relaxing and eating coco pops to look at art from hundreds of years ago. But then again, most days aren’t Zayn Malik’s birthday.

Zayn Malik, his best friend and lifeline, was born on January 12th, 1993, making January 12th, 2018 his birthday. Louis was never good at math, even in his primary school days where it was simple addition and subtraction. There are just too many numbers and so much patience involved. However, he does understand it enough to know that Zayn is turning twenty-five this year.

A successful twenty-five year old, Zayn is. Working out of their shared studio apartment as a full-time artist only three years after finishing uni is impressive to say the least. Louis remembers his days as a twenty-five year old consisted of buying cheat codes for various video games off the internet as he worked half heartedly on his career as a journalist. That career has since become a success, despite what Zayn says. His readers do in fact see his intellectual worth while he’s being critical of healthy cereal, thank you very much.

Zayn’s income is earned by creating exquisite paintings in the comfort of their own apartment. All too often, Louis finds himself being woken up at the ass-crack of dawn to the dreadful sound of spray paint. It doesn’t take much longer after that for the putrid fumes to reach Louis’ bedroom and make their way into his nose. It’s a painfully unpleasant way to wake up. However, when he finally leaves his bed for the day and sees the painting that Zayn had been working on, every ounce of frustration leaves his body.

The paintings contain intricate color, shape and line work. They’re nothing short of stunning, and other people must think so too, because Zayn was able to make a huge profit off selling them last year.

Louis adores Zayn’s work, he truly does, but Zayn’s art is the only kind that truly speaks to him. An afternoon in a museum full of it doesn’t sound ideal, but Zayn has been working non-stop on his art and is distraught that he hasn’t had time to go recently. Zayn, unlike most men his age, enjoys the gallery and the inspiration it brings him. Which is why, on his 25th birthday, Louis is taking him there for a guided tour.

When Zayn receives the news from Louis on the morning of his birthday, his smile is big enough to make Louis’ heart feel warm and excited for the afternoon ahead of them.

Upon arrival to the National Gallery, Zayn has changed from his spray paint stained shirt and joggers into a much more posh outfit. A black blazer was thrown around his torso and a pair of black trousers hung on his legs. Louis had rolled his eyes at him, claiming he was dressing nicer for century-old dusty paintings than for his own graduation from uni.

“It’s a prestigious gallery, Louis. People look at you funny if you’re not sporting either Gucci or Louis Vuitton,” Zayn defended himself, which Louis took into consideration as he changed out of his sleepwear into a maroon sweater that hangs low on his chest, letting his chest and collarbones breathe, and his nicest pair black jeans. His black vans, the ones that he’s been wearing for three years now, found their way onto his feet. They’re ripped at the toe and covered in mud, filth and god knows what else. Nonetheless, he loves the comfort they bring and he isn’t going to let a few rich lads have complete jurisdiction over his attire.

Despite the National Gallery being a major tourist attraction in London, Louis has never been inside. It was always regarded as a place unwelcoming of his loud, squirmy presence. He was the epitome of everything hated by the security there, unable to sit still and talk at an appropriate volume. Acknowledging this, it wasn’t surprised that a mere ten seconds after entering the building, he had already received several glares.

“Zayn, this is fucking sick,” Louis declared with wide eyes in his rather loud voice.

He decided this was the closest to being in a castle he would ever get. The ceilings were high and covered in designs that must’ve required so much patience. People rushed throughout the floor, talking excitedly and holding maps up to their faces. Some of them whipped their heads up to glare at him, as if they’d never heard anyone curse before. The menaces.

“‘S what I’ve been telling you for years, Lou,” Zayn reminded gently, a smile forming across his face.

“Fine. Now that I’ve given this whole art thing a chance, you stay up for 48 hours straight playing FIFA with me. It’s only fair,” Louis replied. He’s been trying to get Zayn on board with the gaming since they met in uni, but Zayn shot him down every time, deeming video games as immature and unworthy of his attention.

“It’s my birthday. Don’t push it,” Zayn chuckled, “where do we meet for the tour?”

Shit.

“Funny that, I don’t have a damn clue,” Louis realized, cursing under his breath.

“Louis-“ Zayn started, cutting off when Louis began walking aimlessly around, eyes open for a group of people meeting for a tour. Zayn grabbed onto this bicep, his palm tight around the muscle so as to not lose Louis among the crowd.

Louis paced around the fairly large room for what felt like a long time, effectively weaving between people before almost colliding with a body covered in a black suit.

Louis moved his eyes from where they rested on the man’s chest to his face. It was a friendly looking face, littered with curls that seemed to have fallen out of the man’s quiff. His emerald eyes bore down into Louis’ own face, which was blushed a light shade of pink after holding the attention of such an attractive stranger for an extended period of time.

“Sir, are you lost? You’ve done three circles around this room and don’t seem to be stopping any time soon,” the green eyed beauty finally spoke, voice slow moving and sweet like honey.

“What?” Louis inquired, memories of everything leading up to this moment suddenly gone as he attempted to wrap his head around what such a gorgeous man was doing in such a bland place like this.

“You look a bit lost, and as an employee here, it’s my job to help,” Harry explained with a chuckle, a dimple as deep as his voice forming in the flesh of his check. Louis could almost feel his mouth water.

“Oi, you don’t look any more put together yourself with your hair going in like ten different directions. But if you must know, it’s my mate’s birthday today and I scheduled a tour for us two, which apparently is some sort of undercover secret tour because I can’t find it anywhere-“

“Are you here for the group tour of the second floor? Because that one’s about to take off and I just happen to be leading it,” The man informed, smirking.

“That would be our tour. Thanks for your help, but with another couple circles I would’ve found it myself,” Louis replied, averting his eyes from the beauty’s figure for the first time since he laid them on him.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Harry and I’ll be taking you on a tour of this lovely gallery this afternoon,”

So his name was Harry. It was a perfect fit for such a stunning and slightly pretentious man.

“I would like to apologize for my lack of knowledge of art, and for my hair apparently,” Harry continued, eyeing Louis and smiling, “My dear friend Barbara was scheduled to show you around, but she came down with a cold last night and therefore I was called in. I’m not even a tour guide, I work as a security guard, making sure no one comes less than a foot from Monet or Picasso. It’s a fun gig until a kid actually does come in contact with a piece and an alarm sounds, but you lot are mature enough to know not to touch, I’m assuming. So we won’t have that problem.”

Zayn’s eyes shoot from Harry to Louis, clearly not believing Louis is mature enough to not touch the century-old paintings.

“Please, Zayn, those dusty canvases would be lucky if I touched them,” Louis whispered, apparently not as quietly as he thought because Harry turns his head around to eye him.

“I’ll sure need to keep my eye on you feisty one,” Harry announced with a smirk, making Louis’ stomach twist, “Now, onto the gallery!”

-

Louis hates to admit he’s wrong. It’s something that happens a lot, he’s wrong about a lot of things, but he especially hates to admit defeat in moments like this. Moments where he has spent all his life unwilling to try something, being obnoxious about it and ends up enjoying it.

These paintings are neat. They look like actual pictures. For people without luxuries such as phones, telly or lube, these dudes sure could paint.

They walked as a group though rooms painted all sorts of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues and purples. Exquisite paintings in extravagant golden frames hung from the colored walls, hoarding Louis’ attention as they walked from room to room until Harry stopped in front of a piece that looked to be covered mostly in shades of blue, green and brown. As Louis stepped closer, he began to decipher animals from horses to peacocks that were painted so realistically that Louis was convinced it was actually a photograph.

“This piece is called The Garden of Eden. It was painted by a man called Jan Brueghel the Elder in 1613,” Harry recited from memory. He went on to explain the composition and process in making it.

 _My nan’s name is Eden_ , Louis thought at first, before he lost interest in what Harry was saying and shifted his attention to the miraculous painting in front of him. The animals seemed to be having a good time, some laying in the grass and others splashing in the water that was painted in an electric blue color. Louis decided he liked this Jan Brueghel dude and his paintings.

His eyes landed on a pair of ostriches in the corner. They stood tall on their noodle-like legs with expressions on their faces that almost made Louis utter a giggle. They looked soft and feathery to the touch, like Louis could run the pads of his fingers over them and feel warm, silky texture.

So he did.

He reached out to run his hand over the birds, testing his hypothesis. He concluded that the birds did in fact not feel soft to the touch, more cold and hard than he assumed, when he heard a startled voice call out.

He whipped his head around to meet Harry’s narrowed green eyes before his wrist was engulfed in a large fist. Harry’s hand wrapped itself entirely around Louis’ wrist, Louis shivering as the metal of his rings and the softness of his hands sent a wave of something through his body that he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Please don’t touch the art, sir, it’s over 400 years old and we need to preserve it as best as possible. The oils from your hands can damage the delicate pigments fairly easily,” Harry murmured. He didn’t seem very upset for a security guard, which Louis was grateful about. He was more grateful about the fact that Harry’s hand lingered around his wrist for far longer than it needed to. After several seconds of silence, Harry released his hand which fell back to his side.

“You keep an eye on him for me, yeah?” Hardy asked Zayn politely.

“S’cuse me? Zayn isn’t my sitter, he happens to be my best mate. Also, what makes you think that this painting is ‘too delicate’ for my fingers? I just might be too delicate for the painting,” Louis counters, taunting Harry by reaching his hand back out and getting within two inches of the piece.

“You’re delicate all right, and quite distracting to me and everyone else as well, sir. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have some art to learn about,” Harry says, and although Louis might have just ruined a really old painting, Harry’s voice is slow and gentle as ever.

“My name is Louis,” Louis informs Harry, “Don’t play posh with me.”

“Louis. Sounds like a fairly posh name to me,” Harry replied. Before Louis could formulate a comeback, Harry resumed his discussion about The Garden of Eden.

“The bastard,” Louis muttered under his breath.

“Louis, it’s not like he’s wrong. Your name is royal,” Zayn reminded him softly.

“Don’t you dare take his side,” Louis replied sharply.

-

An hour and a dozen paintings later, the group stood in front of a painting featuring an assortment of flowers in a vase. He glanced over at Zayn, whose eyebrows were furrowed as he examined the painting while simultaneously listening to what Harry had to say. Louis’ gaze dropped a few feet to where Zayn had his phone clutched in his fist, so tight his knuckles turned a frightening shade of white.

Halfway through the tour, Louis decided he had seen enough paintings to last a lifetime and resulted to playing temple run on his phone at full volume. Harry asked him nicely to put it away, claiming ‘it’s rude to be on your phone on a tour’. Louis (of course) refused, so Zayn took it upon himself to snatch and hold it hostage from Louis. Of course, Louis made several attempts to rescue it from the wrath of Zayn. Sadly, they all failed. Louis resulted to glaring at Harry whenever he did so much as looking in his general direction as his source of entertainment.

“What do you think, Louis?” Said that damn voice that made Louis want to rip his hair out, but at the same time made him so sexually frustrated he could cry.

“Cool flowers. They look really lifelike. Almost too lifelike,” Louis shrugged. Harry’s lips parted to respond to Louis’ comment, but Louis decided he wasn’t finished talking.

“The museum is lying to us, everyone. They say everything here is hundreds of years old. I don’t believe it. This is all a hoax. These are all pictures,” announced Louis, satisfied with the way Harry’s jaw dropped in response.

Harry wasn’t the only one appalled at Louis’ comment. Everyone else in the group seemed to be gawking at him and whispering to each other, so clearly flabbergasted at Louis’ disregard for ancient art.

“You’re right, little one. These paintings are all very well done and detailed. Therefore, they resemble photographs,” Harry explained slowly, clearly trying to keep calm for the group, “however, they’re not actually photos.”

“That’s exactly what someone trying to convince their visitors that their collection of photos are actually old paintings would say,” Louis figured, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his gaze on Harry. Harry chose to ignore him this time.

“Everyone, thank you for joining me on this tour today. I apologize for my lack of knowledge in the arts, as I don’t usually give tours here-“ Harry was cut off by his phone buzzing in his pocket. He mouthed a ‘sorry’ to the group and reached down to peak at it.

“It’s rude to be on your phone during a tour,” Louis repeated what Harry told him earlier in a whiny voice. Harry shot him a look of warning so intense that Louis felt himself shiver.

“I have just received a text saying that there is a film about Monet and his life playing in the theatre downstairs if any of you lovely people would care to give it a go,” Harry informed as he begun to make his way back downstairs to where they came from, “I can show you all there.”

Zayn looked at Louis pleadingly. He clearly wanted nothing more than to go. Louis, however, cringed at the thought of hearing one more word about art today.

“Go ahead. I can get a cuppa from the cafe we saw on our way in and meet you there when the film is over,” Louis offered, however he felt a bit bad about leaving Zayn alone on his birthday.

Zayn didn’t seem to care at all, pulling Louis into his arms for a warm embrace.

“Thanks Lou, here’s your phone back,” he chucked and handed Louis his most prized possession, which Louis took with a huff, muttering something about how he shouldn’t have taken it in the first place. Zayn smacks a kiss to his cheek.

-

Four flights of stairs later, they’re back downstairs. Zayn, along with almost everyone else from the tour, is in seated in the theatre to learn about Monet and his work.

“And where are you off to?” A familiar voice penetrated his eardrums.

“Gonna hang out in the cafe for a bit, maybe get a cuppa,” Louis answered in a light voice and strolled over to where Harry stood. He shuttered when he got close enough to see the stubble poking out of this jaw, definitely not thinking about what it would feel like against his arse cheeks as Harry licked him out.

“Coffee, yeah? Without your best mate on his birthday?” Harry questioned, his signature smirk appearing across his face. Louis shivered to himself. Nobody else seemed to be in this part of the gallery, leaving him alone with Harry and the various paintings that littered the walls surrounding them.

“Zayn is fine alone. Quite the introvert, he is. And don’t even get me started on coffee. I don’t talk to anyone who prefers coffee to tea,” Louis uttered, meeting Harry’s eyes, green and enduring as ever.

“S’ a shame. Would love to get to know you better, but unfortunately I had a latte this morning,” Harry rasped. Louis could feel his breath against his cheek, sending a wave of heat throughout his body. He shakily exhaled and fiddled with the sleeves of his jumper to stop himself from running his hands through Harry’s quiff. He cleared his throat.

“You probably have a tour to give, and I have tea calling my name at the cafe,” Louis spoke in a shaky voice. His palms were sweating.

“I’m off for the day now, and they really overcharge you got a cuppa over there,” Harry countered.

“Well then, what do you suggest?” Louis croaks. Harry captures his bottom lip in his teeth, furrowing his eyebrows slightly has his electric green eyes bore into Louis’ own clear blue ones. Anyone could walk into the room and feel the sexual tension radiating off of them. Louis could feel it pulsing through his veins.

“There’s one piece of art I can’t stop thinking about, one I didn’t discuss on the tour. One that looks like it was crafted by god himself. It’s rather small and oh so delicate. Seems as if God used all his best materials and resources on it and left the others with nothing, because they don’t hold a candle to it,” Harry murmured, breath hot on Louis’ neck as he brushed his fingertips across Louis’ jaw, trailing from his ear to his chin. The pads of his fingers left Louis’ skin on fire, burning deep into his flesh.

Louis felt lightheaded. Him and Harry were centimeters apart at this point, and he knew that he could reach out and caress Harry’s ivory skin if he wanted to. His fingers itched to do so.

“Y-you’re not supposed to touch the art, Harry,” Louis choked out, mind suddenly blank as if the mere brushing of their skin had sent him into a new dimension.

“So now you care about the preservation of artwork, yeah? How can I not touch when your skin seems to be made of fairy dust, your eyes created from water of all seven seas?” Harry breathed. Louis rested his dainty hands on Harry’s chest and could almost feel Harry’s heart beating from under two layers of material.

“I know a place, love,”

-

It was a closet labeled “employees only.”

Louis shook his head at first glance. No way was this happening in a musty closet filled with god knows what. Harry, sensing his unease, opened the door to reveal several mops, frames, and spray bottles filled with what Louis assumed was cleaning solution.

His stomach clenched as he considered the possibility that someone would walk by and hear them- or worse- another staff member would open the door for a mop and see them in the act.

He looked from the closet to Harry, who had his eyes lingering on Louis. Harry looked sinful, his tousled curls falling over his forehead and sticking in all different directions. His eyes were dark with admiration as he eyed Louis back, practically undressing him right then and there.

“The door locks from the inside, if you’re worried about that. But you’re gonna have to try your best to be quiet for me. Can you do that?” Harry interrogates in his usual rasp. Louis would be a fool to say no.

He nods.

Harry grins from ear to ear, gesturing for Louis to enter. He follows soon after, locking it behind him.

Louis presses his back against the back wall, which is cool and sends goosebumps budding over his skin. Harry makes his way over to Louis, cups his face in his giant palm and kisses him like he’s been urning to be kissed all day.

Harry’s plump lips work wonders against his rather thin ones. They move together in perfect harmony as Harry places a knee between Louis’ things so they’re as close as possible. Louis’ heart flutters at how tender and intimate it is, despite how much of a nuisance he was to Harry. It might be one of the most exhilarating kisses in Louis’ life- being kissed among so much art by a man who might as well be the epitome of art.

The kiss turns desperate when Harry’s teeth come into contact with Louis’ bottom lip. Harry licks into Louis’ mouth eagerly, wet and sweet.

“God, Louis, fuck-“ He groans between open-mouthed kisses, “so sweet for me. Can’t believe I get to kiss you like this.”

Harry’s mouth leaves his to nip at the patch of soft skin where his jaw and ear meet. His sweet breath penetrates Louis’ ear lobe as Louis lets out a gasp and tangles his fingers in Harry’s curls like he’s been dying to. He tugs on it a good amount as Harry works his mouth over the rest of his neck, licking and biting here and there.

“What d’ya want, darling? You can have anything, baby,” Harry breathes against the crook of his neck, hands falling down to squeeze at Louis’ hips.

“W-want your cock in my mouth, Harry, please,” Louis whimpers. Harry groans into Louis’ neck before he pulls off with one last kiss, pushing Louis down by the shoulder and taking his place against the wall.

“My cock, baby? You can have my cock,” Harry murmurs, thumbing at Louis’ lip, “can’t believe you spent two hours being a complete pain in the arse and pushing me around nonstop. All you really wanted was a nice cock in your mouth, yeah?”

Harry pushes his dress pants down with ease, followed by his boxers, leaving Louis at eye-level with the python between Harry’s legs.

“Your little game worked, love. Want you so bad, it’s driving me mad,” Harry slurred, tangling his fingers in Louis’ feather-like hair as Louis wrapped his hand around Harry’s member. His mouth waters just looking at it. Harry was definitely the biggest he’s ever taken.

Louis licked gently at his prick, maintaining eye contact with Harry the whole time. Harry watched him from above with wide eyes, closing them and groaning whenever Louis’ tongue gets caught on his slit. Louis mouthed half-heartedly at Harry’s cock, teasing him. He gripped Harry’s bare thighs, squeezing them as he worked his sinful mouth over Harry.

Harry took him by surprise when he thrusted halfway in, chasing the wet heat of Louis’ mouth. Louis moaned around the flesh in his mouth as Harry’s prick hit the back of his mouth. Harry set the pace, using his grip on Louis’ hair to push him forward and pull him off. Louis finally took his hands off Harry’s thighs, which he had been squeezing so hard they had turned a rosy red. He moved his hands to the base of Harry’s cock to jerk off what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. Harry’s eyes squeezed shut and his mouth fell open in a gasp at the stimulation.

Louis relished in being controlled this way. He was completely at Harry’s mercy as he ran his tongue down the underside of his member, getting off on the size of it and how Harry was controlling him.

“Getting off on sucking my dick, are you? Is this what gets you to shut up? Getting your mouth stuffed with inch after inch of cock?” Harry grunted, thrusting lightly into Louis’ throat again. It apparently wasn’t purposeful, since he muttered a ‘sorry’ before throwing his head back against the wall and gasping, “Louis, fuck, there are thousands of pieces of art h-here, shit, Jesus, but I couldn’t get enough of how gorgeous you were, how Michelangelo would’ve felt _so_ shitty about his work if he ever saw a piece like you-“

“Harry,” Louis tried to whimper around the cock in his mouth to no avail. Instead, an unattractive gurgling sound came out. Harry groaned anyway.

“And now I have you on my cock, sucking away like this is what you were crafted to do-“ Harry’s shaky voice is lost in a sweltering hot moan as Louis’ hand moves over to grab at Harry’s balls, massaging them in his fragile hand.

“Sweetheart, gonna cum-“ Harry hissed. Louis chose that moment to pull off, a string of saliva still connecting his lower lip with Harry’s prick and effectively cutting Harry off. Harry tore his hands out of Louis’ hair, which had become messier than ever from Harry’s excessive pulling, and wrapped his right hand around himself to jerk off. Louis grabbed Harry’s fist in his, stopping his wank. Harry looked down at him, a confused look settling across his face with pouty lips to top it of.

“You happen to have a condom?” Louis spoke into the dead silence finally, his voice coming out croaky. The corners of his mouth rose in a small smile as he felt the man above him freeze. Harry’s eyes met his in complete disbelief.

“Gonna let me put my cock in your arse?” Harry questions, his breathy voice cracking.

“Rubber?” Louis reminds him gently, praying Harry is one of those men that carries them around in their wallet.

As it turns out, Harry is one of those men. He tears through his pants, which are discarded on the other side of the closet, until he finds is wallet and a condom inside along with a packet of lube. Harry waves the rubber around as though he’s a child finding candy.

“Yeah, baby, gonna fuck your arse like it deserves,” Harry gasps, waltzing over to kiss Louis hard on the lips, hands squeezing the flesh of his bum. Louis whimpered at the attention, rocking back into Harry’s hands. The two men were pressed flush against each other, every inch of Louis’ skin felt like it was on fire.

Harry tore off Louis’ sweater, tracing his fingers around his chest before bringing them to rest on his nipples. Louis whined as Harry felt them out, pinching and squeezing as he continued to kiss Louis senseless.

“Off, darling, can you take your trousers off for me?” Harry coaxed, taking off his blazer and undershirt. Louis marveled at his torso, fit and muscular, before dropping his trousers and boxers to the ground in one go.

“Turn around, love. Brace against the wall for me, yeah?” Harry urged.

Louis turned around on shaky legs and crossed his arms above his head, leaning forward unto the wall. He could imagine how erotic he looked in this position, wincing against the wall with his arse out, clenching around nothing. Harry seemed to enjoy the sight because Louis could hear a low groan vibrate deep in his throat as he reached out and kneaded Louis’ arse cheeks with his giant hands.

“My _god_ , you look like a sin. Arse so plump for me,” Harry murmured, dropping to his knees, “you put on quite a show today, pretending to hate authority, but the second I tell you what to do in here, you’re more than eager to comply if it means you’ll get your arse filled and fucked, yeah? So filthy. _So_ incredibly filthy for me.”

Louis had to bite his arm to suppress a loud, breathy moan that was bound to slip out. Harry calling him out on his game was strangely hotter than any dirty talk anyone had ever given him. He squirmed as Harry coaxed his cheeks apart from where he knelt on the stone floor.

“So gorgeous, so pink. No matter how hard Picssso could try, he’d never make a color as pretty as this,” Harry muttered, before Louis yelped as he felt Harry kiss him over his hole.

“Sorry petal, couldn’t help but have a taste,” Harry apologized against his flesh. Louis could by the way he felt him smile into his bum that he didn’t mean it.

“I would i-imagine kissing the art is even worse than-n touching,” Louis starts, but his voice is lost in a high pitched whine. Harry had coated one of his fingers in the lube and pushed it past the peachy-colored ring of muscle, applying pressure to the inside of Louis’s bum. Louis’ shaking legs almost gave out from under him at the pleasure that shot through his body.

“That’s the difference between this piece of art and the others, little one. This one is practically begging to be kissed,” Harry rasps, thrusting his digit in and out of Louis’ bum, “the touching and kissing has actually made him more beautiful, which I didn’t know was possible. Touching usually ruins art, but this one thrives off of it,”

Louis cries out at Harry’s words. Half of him wanted Harry to keep going, for him to talk about Louis as if he were a piece of art while the other part wanted Harry to fill him up with his cock already.

“Harry, Ha-a-Harry, gimme ‘nother one. Two fingers, c’mon babe, _please_ ,” Louis whimpers in a high pitched voice he didn’t know he could even make.

“You want another?” Harry asked his bum, sliding another finger in with the first. Louis squeezed his eyes shut and bit his arm harder to keep from moaning at the pleasure.

“Thats it, darling. Taking my fingers so well, getting nice and ready for my cock,” Harry spoke over the wet sound of lube and flesh rubbing together. He began scissoring his fingers, pushing each one up against Louis’ walls, “can’t wait to put my cock in you.”

Louis turned his head around to watch Harry open him up while kneeling on the ground. Harry’s eyes met his, his pupils blown and curls even more unruly than they were before. Louis caught him drag his fist up his cock to his prick, which was flushed a pink so dark it was almost red.

“Three?” Harry asks, making sure Louis is ready for another finger. Louis, of course, nodded vigorously with a whimper caught in his throat.

The third finger was what made his legs give out from under him. He collapsed and fell on the ground in front of Harry, who was still three fingers deep in his bum.

“H-arry, fuck me, do it now, need your c-ock,” Louis whines desperately as he tried to gain control of his legs again and stand up, but failing and falling right back down on the tile. Harry chuckled and continued to fuck his fingers in and out of his bum at a quick pace, eyes fixed on the ring of pink muscle engulfing his digits. Louis squirmed impatiently, whining as he attempted to fuck himself back onto Harry’s fingers.

“So desperate, baby,” Harry breathes from behind him, withdrawing his fingers. Louis then hears a rip behind him, which he guesses is from Harry finally getting on with it and putting a condom on. He peaks behind himself to see Harry rolling the rubber down his cock, eyes rolling back in his head as he lubes up his cock with his hand.

“C’mon, stand up, against the wall with your sweet arse out,” Harry urged. Louis, despite having lost control of his limbs, slowly stood up, legs trembling in the process.

“You alright? D’you want me to pick you up and fuck you instead?” Harry questioned.

Louis looked at him dumbfounded. There was absolutely no way this guy would be able to keep him elevated while fucking into him at a brutal pace, no matter how strong a security guard he was.

“I’m more than qualified, baby. Gimme a chance, will you? S’ not like you’ll last longer than a couple minutes trying to keep yourself up on your own,” Harry pointed out. He did have a point there. Harry holding him would mean he wouldn’t have to do any work, while Harry would have to do all of it. That’s the math Louis likes to do.

Louis reluctantly nodded, causing another one of those wicked smirks to appear across Harry’s face. Harry eagerly gathered the smaller boy into his arms, waking foreword until Louis’ back hit the wall, forcing a grunt out of him.

“Oi, mate, be careful. I may not be as delicate as your paintings in that gallery, but I sure as hell don’t like being pushed into walls-“ Louis started complaining, but was cut off by Harry folding him in half so his legs fell over Harry’s arms which bulged with bicep.

“Hush now, gonna fuck you,” Harry rasped and began pushing in, feeding Louis’ hole inch after inch of cock.

Louis’ eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading at his hairline. His hole fluttered around Harry, marveling and moaning at his girth. His hands flew up to circle Harry’s neck and tug at his curls, feeling how sweaty Harry’s scalp was. Harry let out a low groan, burying his face in the crook of Louis’ neck and biting at the sweet flesh there. Louis’ head fell against the wall as Harry finished pushing in, taking in just how hot and erotic this was.

“Louis, Lou- fuck,” Harry moaned, pressing his nose into Louis’ neck and talking against his damp skin. “So _tight_ for me, baby. You’re so good. Tell me when to go.”

Louis shakily inhaled and exhaled, attempting to get used to the giant cock plugging his arse. Harry rubbed his palms up and down Louis’ sides from his ribs to his things, squeezing whatever part of Louis he could get his hands on.

“H-arry, c’mere, gimme kiss,” Louis whined, unable to form fluid sentences.

Harry grinned, dimple popping out of his cheek as he leaned in to give Louis the dirtiest, hottest kiss he’s ever gotten. The kiss isn’t a kiss, more of a clashing of lips, teeth, tongues and saliva. Louis enjoys every second of it.

“Go, Harry, please, oh,” Louis pleads. He is cut off by Harry pulling all the way out of his bum and pounding right back in, shooting pleasure through Louis’ entire body. Harry buries his head back into Louis’ neck, moaning and sending vibrations into Louis’ skin.

“So, so tight for me, baby. So perfect. Can’t believe I get to have you like this. You act tough in front of everyone but turn into a puddle with a cock in your arse. Unbelievable,” Harry taunts, nosing at Louis’ earlobe before giving it a nip, causing Louis to erupt in a high-pitched yelp.

“No one’s filled me up l-ike this before. Your c-cock was made for me, for this,” Louis wailed loudly, mouth hanging open.

“Fuck, darling, that’s so good. Love that you love my dick,” Harry gasped, pounding into Louis at a swift pace, chasing his wet heat. The constant flutter of Louis’ hole around his member drove him wild. He squeezed Louis’ hips with desperation, digging his nails into the meat. He brought his mouth up to rest against Louis’ ear as he whispered into it with Louis’ eyes half closed in pleasure.

“My god. You’re absolutely delirious. A little sex-happy, are you?”

Little breathy moans fell from Louis’ mouth as Harry thrusted into his bum time after time. The sweet noises rang like music in Harry’s ears. He kissed Louis on the mouth to swallow a few while adjusting him in his arms to thrust in at a different angle.

When he pushed back in and picked up the pace again, Louis almost screamed and fell forward with pleasure. Harry assumed he had found the spot inside Louis, the one that made thinking impossible and words unable to be formed.

“Absolutely beautiful, baby. You’re gonna cum on my cock and I’m gonna cum deep in your arse,” Harry rambled on with his member still snug inside of Louis, chasing his orgasm, “so stunning, every bit of you. A masterpiece, you are. Should be on display here. C’mon, wanna see you cum. Wanna see you paint your stomach, can you do that for me, love?” Harry murmurs, coaxing Louis closer and closer to the edge.

Louis grabs his cock, frantically jerking off to the rhythm of Harry’s never-ending thrusts. It only takes a dozen thrusts or so for him to get there, spilling his cum over his fist and stomach with a wail.

Harry watches him in awe, eyes glued to his face as he pounds his pulsing cock into him one, two, three more times before biting Louis’ neck and releasing, shooting string after string of cum deep into Louis.

Louis’ squirming is what snaps him back to reality from his post-orgasm high.

“Lemme down,” Louis orders, back to his normal bossy self. Harry reluctantly does so, but not before pulling out slowly. He relishes in the feeling of his arms finally being free again, groaning as he stretches them out. Wall sex is always good, however he could do without the cramping and soreness the next day.

“Fuck,” Louis states, “I’ve got cum all over my stomach, what about my sweater?”

“I got you, sweetheart,” Harry reassures, tossing his undershirt Louis’ way. He can live with wearing nothing under his blazer.

“My knight in shining armor,” Louis coos and smiles softly at Harry. It only makes Harry’s heart flutter a little bit.

“Should give you my number, incase I ever need to come save you from a dragon or take you out to dinner,” Harry suggests, a grin making its way across his flushed cheeks.

“S’ not a bad idea,” Louis agrees, grinning just as big and tossing his phone at Harry.

In the end, it was a good first trip to the museum, despite the way Zayn scoffed and teased him nonstop about his post-sex hair and love bites on the way home.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://28tats.tumblr.com/)
> 
> if you enjoyed and would like to reblog the photoset (which is always appreciated) you can find it [here](https://28tats.tumblr.com/post/176433176012/title-every-color-that-you-see-author).
> 
> thanks for reading!


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